Deep Thoughts of a Shallow Mind
by heatqueen
Summary: Just like that conversation about hate and indifference, Glinda also shied away when Elphaba implied that Glinda was capable of deep thought, and yet here she is now, cogs turning in her head, trying to make sense of a bunch of deep thoughts that have been bothering her recently.
1. Chapter 1

**Deep Thoughts of a Shallow Mind**

**A/N: This is my first 'Wicked' fanfic. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, if I'm going to make it longer or keep it as it is. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: The long chunk of text written in italics** **does not belong to me. ****It is quoted directly out of the 'Wicked' book by Gregory Maguire and therefore belongs to him. Also, I do not own 'Wicked', I am just borrowing the characters and writing a story about them.**

Glinda's wide eyes gaze up at the bare ceiling, the only undecorated part of her side of the bedroom, and only because it is too high up for her to reach. It is painted white, and a ceiling light with a boring, white lampshade dangles down from it, causing her to miss her bedroom at home where the lights have lavish, pink lampshades with flowery patterns all over them.

She shifts onto her side and buries her head underneath her bright pink duvet – again with flowery patterns on it. Now that is much better – she thinks. Pink is, in her opinion, the bestest colour ever in the whole wide world. Deep down, she also finds it comforting and safe and familiar. During the times when she feels all alone at Shiz she can look at the pink and feel like a little piece of home is with her.

She is thankful that at least her very aloof roommate, Elphaba Thropp, Third Descending, in line to become the Heir Apparent of Munchkinland, gave her at least some leeway to decorate. Although, she remembered, it had not been without a humongous amount of protestation on the peculiar green girl's part. Miss Elphaba hadn't wanted any pink whatsoever.

'I despise the colour,' she'd said. 'It's far too bright and garish.'

So Glinda was forced to concede to allowing Miss Elphaba to keep her own little corner of the room without any pink embellishments. It is the darkest corner of the room, barely decorated, except for a dark blue duvet and pillow on the bed and tons and tons of books, so many that Glinda wonders how Elphaba could possibly get through all of them without getting bored and falling asleep.

_ But Thank Oz_ _she doesn't snore,_ Glinda thinks to herself. _I don't know how I would bear it if she did._

But even through the silence Glinda is struggling to fall asleep. Outside a bad storm is raging and the loud thunder claps keep jolting her awake.

_I couldn't possibly tell Miss Elphaba that though, _she thinks. _She would mock me for being a baby and for crying about it.  
_  
She thinks this while struggling to keep the tears out of her eyes. At home she would have broken down in a heartbeat and gone to her beloved Momsie and Popsicle's room to sleep in their bed. They would have cuddled her and kissed her and told her it was alright and that she was safe and that she could go to sleep without fear because they were right there with her.

_ They seem so incredibly far away now,_ she thinks miserably. It is yet another thing that Miss Elphaba has mocked her about – the terms of endearment she had for her parents. Glinda herself thinks that their nicknames are rather sweet. But of course, Miss Thropp had to poke at her about it and laugh at her with that stupid cackle of hers and horrid, sarcastic comebacks.

_ How I hate her.  
_  
The tears slip down her cheeks, unstoppable. Glinda vaguely recalls a conversation – if you could call it that – that she had had with Elphaba a couple of weeks back about that very subject. Hate.

'I don't care about him,' she'd huffed about Fiyero. 'I hate him.'

Elphaba had shaken her head.

'That's not true. You do care about him. You wouldn't be able to hate him if you didn't. You'd have to be completely indifferent in order not to care.'

'And what do you know!' Glinda had exclaimed. 'You don't know anything about my life. You don't know anything about him!'

And she'd stalked off before the conversation had continued.

An immature response, she now realises – she hadn't been able to handle Elphaba pointing out the illogicality of her statement, so instead of trying to rectify it, she'd gone into blind denial and ended the conversation.

But Elphaba was right. You can't hate someone you don't care about.

_ But that would mean I care about her. And I don't. Do I?_

She shifts onto her opposite side and catches sight of the sleeping girl in the other bed. Elphaba is curled up in that awkward folded position that she somehow finds comfortable. A thin, green arm lies on the outside of the drab looking duvet, the sleeve of her night dress having ridden up a bit exposing her odd skin.

Glinda lets out a huff of annoyance that this situation seems to be the wrong way round. Usually she is the first to sleep while Elphaba stays up late to study, but more and more recently, Glinda has found herself wide awake long after Elphaba has turned off her bedside lamp.

_How bothersome that I should be kept awake by my own thoughts of all things!_

She recalls another conversation that they once had. Elphaba had been reading about old union minister sermons and Glinda had enquired as to what she was reading. The discussion had somehow segued into the existence of good and evil, and by extension, Glinda's ability (or lack thereof) to think.

_'The early unionists, who were a lot more Lurlinist than unionists are today, argued that some invisible pocket of corruption was floating around the neighbourhood, a direct descendant of the pain the world felt when Lurline left. Like a patch of cold air on a warm still night. A perfectly agreeable soul might march through it and become infected, and then go and kill a neighbour. But then was it your _fault_ if you walked through a patch of badness? If you couldn't see it? There wasn't ever any council of unionists that decided it one way or the other, and nowadays so many people don't even believe in Lurline.'_

_'But they believe in evil still,' said Galinda with a yawn. 'Isn't that funny, that deity is passé but the attributes and implications of deity linger –'_

_'You_ are_ thinking!' Elphaba cried. Galinda raised herself to her elbows at the enthusiasm in her roommate's voice._

_'I am about to sleep, because this is profoundly boring to me,' Galinda said, but Elphaba was grinning from ear to ear._

When she thinks of it now, she wonders if Elphaba might laugh at the fact that she is being kept awake by those very thoughts she was convinced she was so bad at having. Just like that conversation about hate and indifference, Glinda also shied away when Elphaba implied that Glinda was capable of deep thought, and yet here she is now, cogs turning in her head, trying to make sense of a bunch of deep thoughts that have been bothering her recently.

_ To think I have been so concerned about social image, and yet the green bean is having such an effect on me. I do believe I am acquiring a headache. This was easier when I didn't care._

She wakes up the next morning after a fitful night's sleep. Elphaba is already awake and in the bathroom bathing with her oils, or whatever it is she gets up to in there. Glinda rubs her eyes tiredly and sets about choosing a dress to wear. There is a long line of beautifully made, fine quality pink dresses and, squashed into one corner, a few different coloured ones. She bypasses the pink in favour of a blue dress, thinking how recently she has found the pink less desirable for some reason.

She is halfway through putting on her make-up when Elphaba finally emerges from the bathroom in a plain, black dress that really doesn't suit her (though Glinda considers herself far too well-bred to say so).

'Good morning, Glinda,' Elphaba greets.

'Good morning, Elphaba,' Glinda replies.

Elphaba cocks an eyebrow. 'What, no vegetable this morning?'

Glinda scowls. 'I'm not in the mood, don't go there.'

She fixes her lipstick and starts on her hair. In the reflection of her full-length mirror she can see Elphaba attending to her own hair, and finds herself momentarily curious as to how she looks after it. For all of Elphaba's green skin and lack of fashion sense, there really is something about her long, black hair that stands out from everything else.

She continues to curl her hair and watches as Elphaba tips some kind of powder into her hand from a tin and rubs it into her hair before brushing it out with a hair brush. Then she smells a faint burning smell and quickly yanks the curling tong out of her hair and suppresses a curse.

'Oh no,' she moans, when she realises a small lock has been burnt off the end of her hair.

'Bad hair day?' Elphaba smirks.

'Simply _terrible,'_ Glinda sighs.

'Well I'm sure it's not the end of the world. Though, in your world, that may be a different story.'

'Well _excuse me_ for caring about my appearance!'

'Someone's cranky this morning,' Elphaba comments.

'I didn't sleep well, okay? So I'm not in the mood to argue with you.'

'Suit yourself. Though, not sleeping well would be the least of my worries.'

Glinda intended to be quiet but can't help herself from firing a comeback. 'And what would a green bean possibly have to worry about?' she spouts.

Elphaba does not reply.

'Well whatever, the way you are you probably dream about those unionist sermons.'

'Unionist sermons?'

'Like the ones in the book you were reading.'

'You paid attention to that?' Elphaba exclaims, while gathering up her books into an old looking satchel. 'I thought that conversation went in one pretty ear and out the other. And besides, I have class now, and so do you, so you'd better hurry up before you're late.'

She does not wait up for Glinda, but exits briskly through the door. Glinda stares at the spot where her roommate just was. For some reason she feels pained.

_ I hate her,_ she finds herself thinking again. _She's mean. She thinks I'm nothing more than a stupid blonde.  
_  
And she slams her fist on her bedside table, frustrated with herself for being unable to help that the green girl's opinion matters to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Deep Thoughts of a Shallow Mind**

**A/N: Thought I would continue this. Next chapter is a further character study of Glinda, and a bit shorter than the last chapter. Let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 2**

The classroom is cramped and stuffy and does not seem to have been dusted in a long while. The last of the autumn sunshine pours through the windows making the students yearn for the fresh air of outdoors instead of the confines of the room in which they are required to sit for the next two hours, pretending that they care about their lecture while secretly wanting the time to pass as quickly as possible.

An old Goat stands at the front, an Animal, not an animal, one of an increasingly small amount of them that even exist let alone are allowed to teach. He wears round glasses and has hooves in the place of hands, meaning his lectures are dictated orally and without the use of a blackboard. He is a controversial figure on the Shiz campus, whose presence has divided the opinions of the students on Animal rights into two very distinct sides – those who think Animals deserve the same rights as humans, and those who believe that they are no better than other animals, and thus, should be treated like them.

As Glinda sits through another one of Doctor Dillamond's long, boring lectures, her mind brews with troubled thoughts. She glances around distractedly, her eyes darting between various students in the room, the window, the lecturer and, most frequently, Miss Elphaba. She is still stinging from the morning's conversation.

Elphaba is paying attention, of course. She is one of only a handful of students who appears able to follow what the old Goat is saying. The rest, including her friends Pfannee, Milla and Shenshen, are slumped in their seats, trying to pretend to look like they're interested and not really succeeding. A few aren't even making that effort and have given up entirely. Fiyero falls into that category, and Glinda rolls her eyes marvelling that someone so seemingly brainless should even be allowed to attend Shiz University.

Concealing a small sigh she looks back to the front of the room. Doctor Dillamond seems completely oblivious to the bored status of his students and continues to ramble on about whatever it is today's lecture was supposed to be about. Glancing back towards Elphaba, she feels another small sting as she watches the green girl taking notes.

_Stupid blonde indeed, _she thinks grumpily. _Just because the green bean can withstand this boredifying horrificusness._

Her right hand subconsciously twirls her beautiful, pink fountain pen. She suddenly finds herself feeling determined to prove the green girl wrong.

She pricks her ears and attempts to make sense of the complicated drone coming from the old goat, picking out snatches of words and phrases that seem scholarly-sounding to her, and recording them on the blank sheet of paper in front of her. Eyebrows furrowed, she scribbles furiously, not really understanding what she's writing, but copying it down nonetheless. A few minutes later the task seems tedious and she raises her pen and looks at the mess she's made of the paper. Her large, loopy handwriting covers about half of it, but when she reads it back it all looks like gibberish.

With a sigh of frustration she slams the pen down. A few students turn their head in her direction and she sits back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest, a pout forming on her full lips. Doctor Dillamond doesn't appear to notice the incident and continues to lecture.

Glinda is brewing with exasperation, this time not at the lecture, but at herself, for not being able to hold out and concentrate in the same manner that Miss Elphaba seems to do so easily. For the first time she directly acknowledges the stereotype that people, especially Elphaba, have thrown at her ever since she arrived at Shiz.

_Maybe I really am just a stupid, annoying, shallow blonde,_ she thinks. The thought makes her want to cry. She had never believed that of herself before, passing off people's comments as impolite and misunderstanding. But now she thinks, _Is this really how I come across to other people? Is it all they see of me?_

She has spent a lot of her life thus far being complimented for her good looks, bubbly personality and generous demeanour towards others. She always accepted them readily, but now she wonders how deserving she really was of them.

_They called me good for offering to room with Elphaba,_ she thinks, _but that wasn't by my own choice, but a bid to remove myself from a worse situation. The gesture was not made sincerely, but in the name of good image.  
_  
_How do you truly define 'good' then?_

_Why do I now think of these things?_

She is thankful when the lecture finally comes to an end, and stalks out of the room before Pfannee, Milla and Shenshen can catch up with her. The piece of paper she'd used lies abandoned on the table, forgotten about. It is spotted by Miss Elphaba, who is the last person to leave the room after approaching Doctor Dillamond with a question about the lecture. Elphaba picks up the paper, sees Glinda's name and a few lecture notes written on it, folds it up, slips it into her pocket and leaves the room.


End file.
